


The Giggle at a Funeral

by youreyestheyglow



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: I'll link the tumblr post in the notes, I'm doing it. I'm making a title with Take Me to Church lyrics, M/M, Soulmate AU, canon compliant otherwise, saw this idea in an ask on tumblr and blacked out for 30 minutes and here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow
Summary: In a world where you know when your soulmate laughs, Andrew thinks his soulmate is depressed. Neil thinks his is dead.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 52
Kudos: 510





	The Giggle at a Funeral

Andrew Minyard’s soulmate is depressed.

Of course he is. He’s Andrew Minyard’s soulmate.

To be fair, there’s a chance that the soulmate doesn’t _know_. For sure, Andrew doesn’t know who his soulmate is. What Andrew _does_ know is that his soulmate almost never laughs. And, generally, that laughter is short, the humor short-lived. Andrew recognizes depression.

It takes him some time, to realize that Neil Josten is his soulmate. Neil laughs, sometimes—but Andrew doesn’t always know. And once Andrew realizes that his awareness of his soulmate’s laugh syncs up with Neil’s honest laughter, he understands just how often Neil lies, and now Andrew is depressed because Neil Josten is _his_ soulmate, and that’s just—lovely.

It’s not funny, but Andrew’s drugs buzz through him so hard he can’t not laugh, and he does, because of _course_ his soulmate is a Fox, of _course_ his soulmate has two of the world’s worst parents, of _course_ his soulmate is on the run from the mafia. And Neil Josten is _stupid_ , god, so stupid. Although, perhaps the drugs have thrown him off; the _ping_ at the back of the brain doesn’t go off unless the laughter is honest, and so little of Andrew’s laughter comes from him.

Andrew doesn’t bother trying very hard. He _wants_ to—fuck, he wants to, because he’s becoming attached to Neil, which is unfortunate, because Andrew isn’t supposed to become attached to people, but maybe it’s just the way Neil’s honesty comes blaring through his lies, the way Neil’s fury burns away every lid Neil tries to put on it. Maybe it’s the fact that Neil doesn’t seem to care that Andrew lives in a world with much more doom and gloom than people like to pretend exists. Regardless— _Neil_. Andrew, perhaps, likes him.

Andrew isn’t a fan of this. How much of it is Andrew, himself, being attracted to Neil, and how much of it is predestined?

Andrew will not make Neil laugh. He’s heard things—he’s heard that, when a person makes their soulmate laugh, the _ping_ isn’t just a _ping_ , it’s a wave of endorphins so strong it’s been known to make people propose on the spot.

Andrew is right to avoid it.

He gets sideswiped by it—he’s busy telling Neil that they don’t have a relationship. That it’s nothing. Nothing, nothing.

“And I am nothing,” Neil says. Andrew waves a hand—yes, that is also true. “And as you’ve always said, you want nothing,” Neil says.

Andrew freezes.

He hadn’t been trying to make a statement. Hadn’t wanted to do that.

Neil doesn’t laugh—not out loud. But he experiences something like laughter. And it had been partially caused by Andrew.

Neil has to take Andrew’s drink out of his hand, which is nearly too much—Andrew feels like he’s on drugs again. It shouldn’t be this strong. Not for an almost-laugh, not for partially-caused-by—but Andrew’s brain isn’t used to endorphins, isn’t used to serotonin, and even what little his body is producing is too much. Too much.

He kisses Neil until the feeling fades, and vows never to let it happen again.

Neil’s soulmate is dead.

He remembers _having_ one—remembers being a child, knowing his soulmate, somewhere, was laughing. It had been an odd counterpoint to his life; somewhere, there was a person who was happy, and Neil was aware of it even when his life struck him as utterly devoid of happiness. Except—then, his soulmate laughed less. And less, and less, and Neil could track it—perhaps his soulmate had parents like Neil’s, parents who were mean to them. And then, one day, they stopped laughing, and—they never laughed again.

Neil was 9, and he was still Nathaniel.

It’s a good thing his soulmate died when he was young. If they’d survived, their laughter might have distracted Neil from the all-important task of running away.

Neil kisses a girl, one day, to find out if it matters at all, that she’s not his soulmate, that he has no idea when she laughs, has to wait until she makes a noise to figure it out.

Maybe it matters, because Neil feels nothing. Nothing at all.

Well, that’s one distraction gone.

Neil doesn’t mourn. He doesn’t grieve this soulmate he never knew. When he finds his way to Palmetto State, and people ask him questions about attraction, he tells them he doesn’t swing, and feels nothing. He doesn’t tell them his soulmate is dead. And he has no idea if this “not-swinging” thing is _because_ his soulmate is dead, or because that’s just who he is, so maybe it’s a good thing his soulmate is dead, anyway.

When Andrew kisses him, it’s a shock.

In one sense, it’s a shock because Neil _feels_ something—that kiss was _something_. And it’s a shock because Neil’s soulmate is dead, so Neil is not Andrew’s soulmate, so Andrew is cheating on his soulmate.

But maybe Andrew doesn’t care. Or maybe Andrew’s soulmate is dead, too. Neil doesn’t have the courage to ask. Doesn’t want to know. If he asks, and Andrew _stops_ kissing him—

Neil doesn’t want that.

It’s cowardice. But Neil has always been a runaway.

Neil isn’t _stupid_. He knows that Andrew doesn’t laugh—knows that Andrew’s story matches up with the story of Neil’s soulmate, who stopped laughing forever when Neil was 9. But Andrew had laughed, while drugged, and—it’s not possible, that Andrew hasn’t found _anything_ funny in years. Nothing at all. And Andrew would have figured it out, if they were soulmates, and _he_ hasn’t said anything.

It’s the end of the year when Neil’s world upends itself.

Because Neil is at breakfast, with the Foxes. The last weekend before finals. Nicky is a wreck—or, anyway, his notes are, and he doesn’t know what’s happened at all this year, and doesn’t know what to do, and he’s going to _fail_ and he’ll _never_ be able to move in with Erik, and just because Neil doesn’t understand that train of thought doesn’t mean he’s not up to help cheer Nicky up. And he is, he tells Allison and Dan and Matt. He is, he swears, he’s just not good at jokes. Nicky picks at his pancakes and mopes, Neil receives several pleading glances, and he says the first thing that comes to mind—“You should eat pancakes in a pan.”

“Why?” Nicky asks.

“Otherwise they’re platecakes.”

There’s a split second of silence before Nicky gives in—not, Neil is certain, because of the quality of Neil’s joke, but because of the stupidity of it, but Neil doesn’t here what Nicky is saying as Matt pounds his fist against the table, because his soulmate laughed.

His soulmate is _alive_.

His soulmate is _alive_ , and his soulmate is _at this table_ —or, at least, within earshot, because _Neil_ is the one who made them laugh, because this isn’t the gentle _ping_ of his childhood, it’s a rush of joy that leaves Neil breathless and grinning, so happy he doesn’t understand what sadness is, desperate to keep this feeling going, years worth of training the only thing standing between him and whatever stupid thing he can say to make his soulmate laugh again, but—

Who _is_ it?

He glances around, but the only people paying any attention to him are Foxes, and—

And—

This isn’t the first time any of the Foxes—except Andrew--have laughed, since he met them. He doesn’t know when _any_ of them laugh. Not so much as a ping. It’s not even the first time he’s _made_ them laugh.

Which would mean that his soulmate is someone who hasn’t laughed in years.

Neil looks at Andrew.

Andrew’s drugs—is it possible that that laughter never counted? And—Andrew hadn’t laughed _outwardly,_ just now, but maybe—

Andrew raises an eyebrow.

Neil doesn’t know how to test this. How to manufacture honest laughter from either of them, right now.

 _Does_ Andrew know?

He’d have said something, wouldn’t he have?

Unless Neil is _wrong_? He hasn’t made Aaron laugh before, either, but—but Aaron _definitely_ laughs. And, also, definitely has a soulmate, sitting right next to him. So—

“I think,” Neil says, in slow, quiet German, “we might be soulmates.”

The look Andrew gives him is so absolutely annoyed, _disgusted_ , that Neil knows he’s wrong. Should never have brought it up. Should have figured it out—

“You _think_?” Andrew says scathingly. “You’re _just_ figuring that out?”

Neil’s brain pauses, rewinds, reconsiders. Is that an admission? _Agreement_? “I—my soulmate hasn’t laughed in _years_.”

“And how many people like _that_ do you know?”

“I thought my soulmate was _dead_.”

“Well, I’m not. Get over it.”

“What are they talking about?” Nicky complains. “I can’t hear them.”

Aaron picks his head up off the table. “Neil has only just figured out that he and Andrew are soulmates.”

And that’s it for breakfast, for a little while.

That night, though, it’s different, because Neil _knows_.

The problem is that Andrew, also, knew.

“Did you really just figure it out today?” Andrew asks, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette. “We’ve been making out for _months_ , and you didn’t even know?”

Neil shrugs. “Again, I thought my soulmate was dead. Thought maybe yours was, too, and I was—I _like_ you, I was happy to keep it going until I died. Or until you cut me out. Did _you_ know before we started hooking up? Is that _why_? Or—did you figure out around the time when you stopped insisting we were nothing?”

“Before,” Andrew says, staring calmly out into the darkness. “Trust me, I tried not to let it affect me.”

“What, worried you’d fall in love with me?” Neil asks, grinning.

“Didn’t want to ruin my look.”

Neil tosses him a curious glance.

Andrew waves at himself. “Fashion incarnate.” He waves at Neil. “Recently emerged from a trash can.”

Neil laughs.

Andrew takes a deep breath.

And then he takes the cigarette from Neil, stubs it out, and kisses Neil until Neil knows exactly how Andrew feels.


End file.
